


Chop Chop Get to Work

by Snovi



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Amputation, Blood and Gore, Gen, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:49:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snovi/pseuds/Snovi
Summary: “Not great, obviously. I'm down a whole arm.” He sighed, looking up at Jeremy and forcing a lopsided smile. “Maybe now you'll finally be able to beat me a Mario Kart.”





	Chop Chop Get to Work

Movies and TV shows really exaggerate when it comes to zombies. Unless the outbreak has been going on for months  _ at least _ , nothing is ever quite that run down looking. TV shows buildings crumbled, vines overtaking everything, zombies in every direction, total anarchy. Well, the anarchy bit wasn't totally wrong. It's hard to have laws when half the police force is already gone thanks to them trying to save civilians and ending up bitten. Most people still had common sense, though. Living in a place with laws all your life, it's hard to think about breaking them all the sudden just because you can. Most people would never kill another person if laws were gone, just because they could now. At least, that was the hope.

However, these laws that were deeply ingrained into every citizen of New Jersey still didn't stop Michael and Jeremy from stepping into a deserted 7Eleven and swiping a few snacks. They had to eat, and surely no one would fault them for a little theft so they could survive.

“I still feel like I should pay.” Jeremy said from an isle over. “Like what if I just leave a 5 on the cash register?”

“Who are you leaving it for, the zombies? No way in hell someone's going to come back and find that someone paid for their purchase any time soon.” Michael reasoned, tossing a few bags of chips into his backpack. Jeremy sighed loudly.

“Yeah, I guess you're right. It just feels wrong.” He zipped up his bag that was now full of snacks and beverages, walking back to his friend. Michael smiled at him sympathetically as he approached. 

“Don't look so down, Jeremy. It'll be fine. At least it's only been a few days since the warning went out so nothing is expired yet.” Michael nudged his friend gently, trying to cheer him up. Admittedly, it was hard to be cheered up when the world was being taken over by the dead. Jeremy tried to crack a smile regardless. 

“Y-Yeah, I guess you're right, that's one upside…” Jeremy watched as Michael zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulders.

“The other upside is that we aren't alone.” Michael said more seriously, his smile a bit more solemn. “Not only would it be hella lame to be a survivor on my own, but you need someone to protect you, and I happily take that position!” Michael laughed as Jeremy playfully smacked his shoulder. 

“I don't need protecting! I would do just fine on my own!” Jeremy retorted, crossing his arms. A smile slipped past his lips, eyes softening as he looked back at his best friend. “But I'll admit, it's more interesting being with you. I'd get tired of it if I had to walk around with anyone else for days on end.” 

“But you could never get tired of me~” Michael cooed, leaning on Jeremy's shoulder and smiling. Jeremy laughed and pushed him away, the feeling of dread that had been ever present lifting away a bit as he laughed with his best friend. They were brought back to reality when a loud thump sounded from the front of the 7Eleven. They both looked up, smiles disappearing as they saw a lone zombie at the front entrance. Luckily it didn't seem to be able to read, a trait of most zombies, and was attempting to push open the pull door. 

Jeremy's breath caught in his throat, and he instinctively reached for the pistol he carried in his backpack side pocket. 

Ever since the warning had gone live on TV, Michael and Jeremy knew they needed a weapon if they wanted to survive. Jeremy had found a loaded pistol and spare bullets in the attic, in a box his dad tried to keep secret from him that was only there for emergency. Jeremy considered the zombie apocalypse emergency enough. Michael had grabbed a hunting knife he had been given one year as a birthday gift and a novelty machete that was made to look exactly the same as the one used by Rick Grimes on the Walking Dead (Jeremy doubted him when Michael insisted it would be useful), it wasn't much but it was all he had with no knowledge of any gun safe in his home. Neither of them had actually been in a situation where they needed to use their weapons yet, always being lucky enough to find an escape without any violence. It wasn't that they were afraid, it was just… the zombies were human at one point. It would be like killing a human. Something about it didn't sit right in Jeremy's stomach.

“Uh… there's gotta be a back door, right?” Jeremy asked nervously, taking his eyes off the monster for a moment to look over his shoulder. Michael nodded, backing up. 

“Yeah, yeah probably. You stay here and watch the zombie, I'll see if there's a back door. I'll call you when I find it!” Michael told him, turning and running behind the counter quickly, through a staff only doorway that was back there. Jeremy let out a soft whimper, unable to hide his fear. He was glad the zombie was dead and unaware. Had it been a living human, he surely would have been getting picked on for the way his legs were shaking like he had just learned how to stand on his own. The zombie rammed it's decomposing shoulder against the door, resulting in another loud thud. Jeremy backed away until his heels hit the front counter, never taking his eyes off the zombie. 

“Jeremy, come here! There's a padlock, I need you to shoot it open!” He heard Michael's voice, breaking his staring contest with the zombie and quickly running towards his friend's voice. Jeremy ran through a small hallway to Michael, where he was standing in front of a metal door, the handle chained and padlocked shut. 

“Shit… why would they lock this door!?” Jeremy cursed, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“To keep people from coming in the back, maybe? I don't know, just shoot it open like they do in the movies!” Michael told him, standing back a bit in case of shrapnel. Jeremy raised the pistol with both hands and took the safety off, closing one eye as he tried to line up the shot. They both flinched at the bang when it fired, and the resounding  _ clang _ from where the bullet bounced off the chain. Jeremy yelped and shielded his eyes with his arms, Michael doing the same, though Jeremy was a bit slower to react, cursing as he felt bits of shrapnel fly into his cheek, eyebrow, and eye.  

“What the fuck? It didn't even break!” Michael said, lowering his arms away from his face to inspect the chain. 

“It didn't? But that always works in movies.” Jeremy mumbled, disappointed. He reached up to his face to inspect the damage, touching his eye gently. He tried to open it, hissing in pain. He heard Michael sigh. 

“This sucks! Now that means we  _ need _ to go out the front…” he muttered, frustrated. 

“It can't be too hard. We can just wait until the zombie leans against the door and open it so he falls backwards and is unbalanced, then we dash.” Jeremy explained his idea, still messing with his eye as Michael nodded along thoughtfully. 

“Not a bad idea. We can try it. I can't think of anything else, so…” he turned to leave the hallway and return to the main area, when he stopped and stared at Jeremy. “What happened to your face? You're bleeding!” He gasped, reaching out for Jeremy's face. Jeremy flinched, grimacing. 

“It's nothing. The chain kind of exploded when I shot it and I got part of it in the face. I'm fine, seriously. Come on.” Jeremy urged. “I just wanna get out of here. You can take care of me later if you want, but I just want to get out right now…” 

Michael frowned. “But Jeremy, you... Ugh, fine, let's go.” He took the lead, taking out his machete. Jeremy stifled the impulse to laugh at the novelty item as he followed behind, holding his pistol at his side. The walked back to the front of the store, hopes falling even further. 

In the time it had taken them to fuss with the padlocked door, more zombies had come to press up against the glass of the front doors of the building. Jeremy's good eye went wide, trying to count how many zombies had crowded around the door. Where did they all even come from!?

“Shit!” Michael hissed from beside him, holding his machete out in front of himself in an attack stance. “Jeremy, we're gonna have to fight to get out.” He said, glancing up at his friend. Jeremy stared back, face pale. 

“Michael, I-” 

“This is life or death, man! It's just one quick shot to the head, they don't even bleed so you don't have to deal with anything gorey.”

“I'm not scared of a little violence, Michael! I just don't want to shoot a human! It feels wrong!” 

“They aren't human.” Michael put a gentle hand on Jeremy's trembling shoulder. “Listen to me. Those things are  _ not _ human anymore. Sure, they might have been at some point, but they aren't now. And, if you don't help me clear them out, you're going to turn into one of them, too. Do you want that?” He asked. Jeremy took a shaky breath, closing his eyes. 

“N-No… but…” 

“No buts. Don't think so much about it, okay? You're killing a monster, and saving yourself. That's all.” Michael told him, gripping his weapon again as he prepared to fight the small hoard that had gathered. “There has to be at least 10 of them… I'm gonna go open the door and let them in, okay? There isn't so many that we don't have a chance to get out. If we're lucky, they'll come in and then we can bolt out the door.” Michael explained his plan, and Jeremy nodded along. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.” 

“Are you ready?” Michael asked, walking towards the doors but keeping an eye on Jeremy over one shoulder.

“Uh. Sure. I guess.” Jeremy responded meekly, holding his gun up and pointed at the zombies. He frowned at how much his hands were shaking. He would be lucky if he landed any shots. Maybe he should give Michael his gun instead. With his new eye wound, he felt especially weak, his depth perception a bit off with one of his eyes closed. 

Michael reached the doors, grabbing both handles. The zombies seemed to get more excited the closer Michael got, their scrambling at the door getting more frantic. 

“Ready, Jer?” Michael asked again, waiting for an answer before opening the doors. Jeremy swallowed hard, his voice cracking.

“Y-Yeah.” 

Michael nodded, shoving the door open as hard as he could before jumping backwards, away from the entrance. The few zombies who were in front of the doors were thrown backwards when Michael opened the doors so forcefully, sending them to the ground. The rest of the zombies that were still mobile started lumbering into the building immediately, their dead eyes fixed on the two boys. 

Michael acted first, letting out an angry yell as he ran at the closest zombie, viciously swinging his machete down onto the monster's neck. Jeremy was shocked when the machete actually did damage, making it at least halfway through the zombie's rotten neck. Michael had to swing again to decapitate it completely, kicking the headless body away from him as he looked for his next target. 

“Michael!” Jeremy called out, getting his friends attention. “Is that a real machete!? I thought it was just a prop?” 

“No way, dude!” Michael laughed, looking proud of himself. “It's the real deal. It makes a good prop, AND a good weapon. It works gr- Jeremy, look out!” Michael broke off to gesture wildly. Jeremy raised his gun on instinct, pointing it in the direction Michael was pointing. The zombie was right in his face by the time he turned towards it. Jeremy got a good look at it's disgusting, rotting face, his jaw hung open and drooling, one of its eyes hanging out of its socket by a tendon. Jeremy ignored the urge to vomit and quickly pulled the trigger, feeling sick as he watched the bullet enter the zombie's head. It stumbled backward, and Jeremy stepped back fearfully, his stomach churning as he watched it's back hit the floor, the bullet hole between it's eyes boring itself into Jeremy's memory. He barely saw Michael continuing to fight off zombies in his peripheral vision, but was unable to focus on anything but the gunshot wound he created. He was forced back into the real world when Michael suddenly shoved him to the side, making him stumble and fall on his butt. He looked up to watch Michael swing his machete, burying it into the skull of a zombie that had gotten frighteningly close to the zoned-out Jeremy. It appeared to be the last one as well, as Michael removed his weapon from it's head, it fell to reveal and empty building, save for the freshly re-killed bodies on the floor. Michael was breathing heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He turned to face his best friend, offering a hand to help him up. 

“We're okay, Jeremy. Come on, let's get out of here. We need to try and stay out of places we can get cornered from now on.” He said with a hint of humor in his tone. Jeremy nodded and took his hand thankfully, standing on shaky legs.

“Thanks for saving me, dude… I'd be dead if you weren't here. I totally froze up after I shot the first one… I'm such a wuss. I'm not cut out for the apocalypse, man.” Jeremy muttered, sighing heavily. Michael frowned.

“That's not true. You aren't dead yet, which means you're doing pretty damn good so far.”

“But I can hardly even shoot a gun! And I totally froze up after one shot!” Jeremy flailed his arms dramatically as he got more frustrated. Michael patted him on the shoulder gently.

“Hey, hey… how about this. I'll defend you, and you can sit back and be the one who keeps an eye on our supplies and everything. You can watch my back while we travel, too. You don't have to fight, I'm fine with protecting you.” Michael smiled, giving his friend a side hug. Jeremy cracked a small smile, looking more relaxed already. 

“Y-Yeah, that… that sounds good. Sorry I'm so useless.” 

“You aren't useless! You'll be helping a lot by watching our stuff while I kill shit. We make the perfect team, remember?” Michael started to walk to the door to leave, then stopped and looked back at Jeremy. “Oh, Jer… How is your eye? It doesn't look great.”

“Yeah, it, uh… it doesn't feel great, either.” Jeremy's smile fell, reaching up to gingerly touch his eye. It felt warm and swollen under his fingertips, and even the lightest touch sent sparks of pain through the whole side of his face. He cursed in pain, flinching at his own touch. 

“Shit, Jeremy. We need to get moving, I'll get some paper towels and water from my bag and see if we can get it cleaned, okay? So it doesn't get infected.” Michael said worriedly, grabbing Jeremy's wrist and gently guiding him to the door. They walked out together, keeping an eye out as they walked the streets to find somewhere to take a rest and take care of Jeremy. 

After a few minutes they found a deserted park, sitting on a bench once they made sure there were no zombies in the area. It was an old kids park, complete with a swing set, seesaw, slide, and monkey bars. Jeremy felt nostalgic as he sat on the bench, looking out at the park as Michael dug through their bags for towels and water. 

“Hey, Michael? I think I've been to this park before. When I was a kid.” Jeremy said softly, almost wistfully. Michael looked up, a bottle of water in hand. 

“Yeah? That's pretty cool. I bet it's changed a lot.” He responded, unsure where Jeremy was going with this. Jeremy nodded, frowning.

“Yeah, it has. Especially the, you know. The apocalypse. That wasn't a thing when I was a kid.” He looked down at the tanbark under his shoes, kicking at it thoughtfully. “I wish I could go back to that time. Before we were fearing for our lives at every step.”

“I guess it does suck. I try not to think about the past. What matters now is surviving the future, you know? We can't go back, but we can go forward and make the future just as safe and enjoyable as the past was.” Michael tried to stay optimistic, going back to looking for the paper towels. Jeremy laughed dryly.

“Yeah. Okay.” He shook his head, scoffing. “This just sucks. This really fucking sucks. The apocalypse sucks.” He mumbled, directing his words at the world itself. Michael smiled sympathetically, pulling out their roll of paper towels and tearing off a piece. He opened the water bottle and wet the paper towel with it, turning to face Jeremy. 

“Alright dude, this is probably gonna hurt, like, a lot. Just stay still, I'll try to be as gentle as possible.” Michael told him, holding up the soggy paper towel. Jeremy nodded and shut both eyes, steeling himself for the pain. Michael did his best to be gentle, but the second the towel touched Jeremy's swollen skin, the other boy had already flinched away in pain. Michael shushed him gently, putting his free hand on Jeremy's shoulder. 

“Come on Jer, just let me clean it really quick. It'll be over and we can eat some snacks to distract you.” Michael said softly, holding the towel out again. When Jeremy flinched once more, Michael put his hand on the back of Jeremy's head to keep him from moving. He pressed the wet towel against his best friend's eye, causing him to cry out in pain. Michael continued even though the sound hurt his heart, trying to finish quickly. He cleaned the dried bloody seam of Jeremy's eyelids, shushing him and offering gentle words all the way. 

“Jeremy, can you open your eye at all?” He asked after he had cleaned as much of the outside as possible, wanting to see how much damage had been done. Jeremy whimpered in pain, his eyelids twitching as he tried to open his eye. 

“It hurts. It feels like there's nails scraping my eye.” He complained. “Cleaning it only made it worse.” 

“I'm sorry buddy, but I had to! Just, uh… here, just hold this wet towel against it for a little bit. It's still cold, so it's sort of like an ice pack.” Michael offered the towel to him, and Jeremy took it, putting it against his eye with a soft sigh. Michael frowned when he saw that Jeremy wasn't even touching his eye with the towel, too afraid to touch the irritated area anymore. He didn't say anything, putting the water bottle and roll of paper towels away again. 

“Hopefully that eye won't get infected now. We probably should try and steal some medicine from a CVS or something if we get the chance. Get some antibiotics.” Michael thought out loud. He stared down at his shoes as an awkward silence followed his statement, kicking his feet mindlessly. They sat in silence for a little more than a minute before Jeremy finally broke it, dropping the towel on the ground. 

“What time is it?” He asked suddenly, looking at Michael with one eye still closed. Michael pulled up his hoodie sleeve, revealing the solar powered watch he had found at a mall they had scrounged through days prior. 

“5:45. Why?” 

“I'm just. I'm so tired. I still feel sick after killing that zombie.” Jeremy covered his face with both hands, pulling his knees up to his chest. “It's just been a long day.” 

“Jer, that was only like… an hour of our day.”

“It was enough excitement to take a whole days worth of energy out of me.”

“Fair enough.” Michael put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder, rubbing comfortingly. “We can get moving again if you want. I don't know how long it'll take to find somewhere to sleep, though.” He reminded. Jeremy shrugged.

“I'd be fine just sleeping here.” He dropped his hands from his face, frowning. “God, my eye hurts so much now. I hope I get a cool eye patch or something after this.” He grumbled. Michael couldn't help but laugh.

“If we can't find you one, I'll make one for you myself.” Michael chuckled, standing up and swinging his backpack over one shoulder. He grabbed Jeremy's as well and put it over his other shoulder, much to Jeremy's dismay.

“You don't have to carry both bags. Give one to me.” He stood up, as Michael started to walk away. 

“No way, you were just saying how tired you are! I can handle it, you take a break.” He smiled at Jeremy over his shoulder and Jeremy sighed, knowing he couldn't argue with that smile. He shook his head and matched his pace with Michael, walking at his side. 

“Fine. I can't argue with that.” 

 

The walk to find a suitable safe place to sleep went by with no issue, the only sighting they had of zombies was from afar and easy to avoid. They got to an apartment building after a good bit of walking, happy to find the main door unlocked. They only briefly searched around to make sure it was empty, and though they didn't find any zombies in it, they also found that all doors to the rooms and offices were locked. 

“Well, shit. Now what?” Michael muttered, trying and failing to open yet another door to an office. “We can't get into the rooms, we can't get into the offices that might have the room keys…” he crossed his arms, frustrated. 

“What if we just… sleep in the elevator?” Jeremy shrugged. Michael looked thoughtful. 

“That's not a bad idea… I'm sure zombies are too dumb to press the button to open it if they even get in here at all.” He nodded, thinking. Jeremy looked at Michael, an eyebrow raised. 

“You're really considering that? I was joking!” He laughed, shrugging. “That's a solid point, though. I say we get set up now, I'm about to pass out.” Jeremy walked towards the elevator, pressing the button to bring it down. Michael smiled and stood next to him to wait, readjusting the bags on his shoulders so it would relieve a bit of the pain he was starting to feel. While Michael was momentarily distracted, Jeremy stood between him and the elevator, a playful smile on his face. 

“I get to press the floor buttons when we get in there. I called it. I wanna press all of them, THEN we can get set up and sleep.” Jeremy smiled. Michael laughed, playfully shoving Jeremy with a hand on his chest.

“Yeah, whatever, dork. I won't stop you. Whatever makes you happy in these trying times.” He joked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. Jeremy laughed with him, turning excitedly when he heard the elevator stop and open. He let out a sudden squeal of fear, the high pitched noise making Michael jump. Having been facing the elevator with his bad eye, Jeremy didn't see the zombie that had been stuck in the elevator that had now grabbed him, groaning victoriously. Michael dropped his bags instantly, getting between Jeremy and the zombie without hesitation. He pushed Jeremy back and pulled his knife out of his pocket, not having the time to get his machete as the zombie flung itself towards him, leaning on him with it's dead weight. Michael was put off balance for a moment, swinging the knife through the air clumsily, hoping to land a hit. The zombie grunted when the knife slashed through its face, drool dripping down it's chin as it opened its jaw threateningly. It grabbed Michael by his outstretched arm, his grip tight enough to send him into a slight panic. He grabbed the knife out of his immobilized hand, raising it up to plunge into the head of the zombie. He moved to attack just as the monster sunk it's disgusting teeth into his wrist, making him curse in pain.

“You fucker!” He spat, jabbing his pocket knife into the zombie's eye socket and twisting it, keeping it lodged until the grip the zombie had on his slackened. He only pulled his knife back when the zombie crumbled to the ground, leaving Michael was breathing heavily, checking on Jeremy behind him.

“Are you okay?” He asked between breaths, as Jeremy stared at him in horror. 

“Michael, it… It bit you, Michael it bit you!” He shrieked, shaking badly in fear. Michael grimaced.

“Yeah. I noticed. Um. At least it's on my arm so I can still survive it.” He muttered, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through his wrist. 

Jeremy stood close to inspect Michael's arm. “Let me help, I can clean it like you cleaned my eye!” 

“Jeremy, you know that won't do shit. Grab my machete out of my bag. Don't waste any time, okay?” Michael rushed out, leaning against a nearby wall and sliding down to the floor. Jeremy nodded numbly and stumbled to Michael's bag, grabbing his machete and bringing it back to Michael’s side. By the time he got there, Michael had taken his hoodie off, leaving him in his white tee shirt, and had laid down on the floor on his back and extending his arm to the side, flat on the floor. Michael looked resigned, and the position had Jeremy horrified at the implications.

“Um, wh-why did you want this?” Jeremy asked, face panicked and hoping it wasn't for what he thought it was for. 

“Don't look at me like that, Jeremy. If you don't want me to turn, you'll help me. Please.” Michael closed his eyes tight, preparing himself. After a few seconds without any movement being heard, he opened them again and frowned. Jeremy hadn't moved at all, staring at him and shaking in fear. 

“Michael, I c-can't…” 

“You need to! Take your belt off or something and tighten it around my bicep. As tight as it'll go. Then just line up the machete, and swing down as hard as you can.” Michael explained, frowning as he watched Jeremy shake his head frantically. 

“Michael I can't! I can't, I can't do this, I…” 

“Jeremy, listen to me! You need to be a bro and cut my fucking arm off, okay? I'll die if you don't! You'll be saving my life Jeremy, please!” Michael was begging now, the pain travelling further up his forearm. Jeremy was still hesitating, so Michael growled and reached for his own belt buckle, taking it off with one hand. He yanked it free from his belt loops, wrapping it around his own bicep with some difficulty. After he pulled it tight enough that he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers, he held out his hand to Jeremy expectantly. Jeremy stared back at him, confused.

“Give me the machete, Jeremy. If you can't do it, I will. If I die, then who will be your player one?” Michael forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. Jeremy handed over the machete on auto pilot, the fear and horror never leaving his eye. Michael took it from him, taking a deep breath. He intended to waste as little time as possible, wanting to get the pain over with fast. He saw Jeremy turn away, hugging his shoulders for some sort of comfort. Michael could reassure him later. He had to take care of this before the infection spread to a place he wouldn't be able to amputate. He  _ refused _ for today to be his last. 

He sat up a bit so he could get more leverage, lining the weapon up with the crook of his arm. He knew he had hesitated enough, gritting his teeth and lifting his arm, swinging the weapon back down as hard as he could on his own arm. He couldn't help the choked sob that tore through his throat, pain blooming in his arm instantaneously. Michael's breathing picked up, all his instincts telling him to stop. He reluctantly paused to look at the wound, feeling sick. He hardly even got the blade through to the bone. He sobbed again in pain, raising the machete once again and slamming it down harder this time, a scream of agony leaving his mouth. He tried to ignore the pulsing pain going through the entire right side of his body and the growing puddle of blood forming under his arm, raising the weapon over his head again. He wanted to be finished with this already, using all his strength to slam it down onto his arm. He almost threw up at the intense pain and sound of the machete finally making its way through his humerus. Michael was hyperventilating at this point, pressing the machete down against the remaining muscle that kept the arm attached to finish it off, fully separating it from his body. He was exhausted and in immense pain, suddenly wondering if it was worth it to save himself after going through all that. He felt lightheaded as he fell back onto the floor flat on his back, dropping the weapon with a sharp clang on the tile. His vision was unfocused, but he could vaguely see Jeremy turn around and look at him, sharply hunched over with a hand against his mouth, clearly just saving himself from vomiting at the sight. 

“Oh God Michael, holy fuck, you- Michael-” Jeremy was at a loss for words, trying to snap out of it so he could go to their backpacks, quickly digging through their things, looking for something. Michael tried to speak, his words slurred.

“It's fine, 'm okay now. Won't have to deal with zombie me.” He said with a weak chuckle. Jeremy whimpered helplessly in response, not finding his words very funny in the moment. He finally found what he was looking for- a towel? Blanket, maybe? Michael's vision was becoming spotty, it was hard to tell what Jeremy was holding. 

He snapped back to consciousness when he felt pain flare through what was left of his arm once more, screeching in pain and trying to flinch away. Jeremy shushed him from where he sat crouched at his side, pressing a piece of cloth to Michael's wound. 

“Just stay still, you're going to bleed out if I just leave you here… Holy shit Michael, I can't believe you…” Jeremy muttered to himself, trying to apply pressure to stop the bleeding without hurting his friend. Michael caught his breath after a moment, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Yeah, well… You weren't gonna do it for me, and somebody had to. It was either this or I die.” He grunted, his voice strained. Jeremy sighed, frowning. 

“I know. I'm sorry I… I'm sorry I was too much of a pussy to do it for you. That's not what a good friend does. We're supposed to be working together out here. It's just you and I, we rely on each other and I just… left you. Because I was too scared.” He sniffled, wiping his face with a bloody hand. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't even comfort you during. I couldn't even stand to hear you scream.” Michael shook his head, patting Jeremys shoulder with his remaining hand.

“S’ok. I forgive you. It's over now.” Michael shrugged, laying his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “I feel like that one time we watched 127 Hours together really prepared us for this moment, though.” He tried to lighten the mood, smiling when he got a soft snort from Jeremy. 

“That movie made me throw up when we watched it!” He argued, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, but you didn't throw up now! So it desensitized you a little!” Michael argued, and Jeremy rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever you say. Um… I'm not totally sure what to do now, though. You're still bleeding and now you have an open wound…” Jeremy thought out loud, too afraid to remove the cloth to inspect said wound. 

“Let's just move into the elevator like we originally planned, yeah? We can properly get comfortable without worrying about any more surprise attacks, and rest up a bit…” Michael said, starting to sit up. Jeremy sat back to let him, holding his friend steady with one hand on his good shoulder and the other hand on his back. Michael tried to ignore the puddle of blood on the floor, stepping over it and his dead arm to stumble onto the elevator. He leaned against the far wall of it and slid back down to the floor in a sitting position right away, feeling tired just from those few steps. He watched Jeremy grab their bags and step over the body of the dead zombie and Michael's blood puddle to get to the elevator, pressing the 'close doors’ button before sitting down next to Michael. 

“How are you doing?” Jeremy asked as he got comfortable, purposefully keeping his eye trained on Michael's face so he didn't have to look at his friend's bloody shoulder. Michael shrugged, looking a bit out of it. 

“Not great, obviously. I'm down a whole arm.” He sighed, looking up at Jeremy and forcing a lopsided smile. “Maybe now you'll finally be able to beat me a Mario Kart.” 

Jeremy snorted out a laugh, shoving Michael playfully. “Only you would make a joke at a time like this!” He giggled, Michael laughing right along with him.

“Well, it doesn't help anything to just sit around moping. Nothing gets accomplished that way.” He shrugged, smiling tiredly. Jeremy nodded, resting his head on his taller friend's shoulder. 

“Yeah, you're right. You're still my best friend even if you are missing an arm. I'm just glad you're still alive. That was like, super badass. I'd never be able to cut my own arm off…” Jeremy shuddered at the thought. 

“I wouldn't have thought I could do it either. But, adrenaline is nuts, and I didn't want to leave you on your own, so I had to do what I had to do.” Michael said seriously, looking down at his stub of an arm. He gently peeled away the cloth he had been holding against it, glad to find that the bleeding had stopped. “I'll adjust to it. One arm is better than being dead. Uh, Can you hand me my hoodie?” He asked, tossing the bloody cloth to the side. 

Jeremy nodded and sat up for a moment to grab it from where it had been tossed when they got into the elevator, handing it to his friend. Michael struggled a moment to pull it on with only one arm, refusing to let Jeremy help until he had it on.

“Jer, can you tie up the sleeve on my right side? It'll keep it from getting a regular, non-zombie infection… hopefully. Plus, neither of us will have to look at it if it's covered.” 

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.” Jeremy gently took the sleeve into his hands, tying a knot right below where Michael's stub of an arm ended. He laid a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder without thinking once he had finished, intending to let him know he was done. Michael flinched and hissed in pain, Jeremy drawing his hand away in an instant like he had been burned.

“Shit! I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking- Are you okay?” Jeremy asked quickly, holding his fists tight at his sides so he wouldn't accidentally hurt Michael again. Michael shook his head, laughing weakly. 

“No, I'm fine, it's okay. That whole side of my body is sensitive. It's gonna get some getting used to, for sure. I'll live.” He relaxed as the sharp pain ebbed away, leaning back against the elevator wall. “I am. So exhausted.” He admitted with a dramatic sigh. Jeremy leaned back next to him, staring at the lights on the ceiling.

“Yeah. Same. I don't think one of us needs to keep watch tonight? I mean, what zombie is gonna press the button to open an elevator?”

“We also didn't think a zombie could be  _ in  _ the elevator, and look how that turned out.” 

Jeremy sucked in air through his teeth, biting his lip. “Uh, y-yeah, I guess you're right. I'll keep watch then. You rest. You've been through a lot today.” 

Michael gladly grabbed his backpack and shoved it into the corner of the elevator, taking out a throw blanket he carried and laying down, draping the blanket over himself. He laid his head down on his backpack, using it as a pillow. “Thanks, man. G'night, see you in the morning.” Michael said softly, already starting to fall asleep. He rolled so that he was laying on his good arm, making sure to keep his open wound as far away from the floor as possible. Jeremy smiled a little and nodded. 

“Yeah. See you in the morning.” He whispered back, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging them. He rested his chin on his knees, staring at the closed elevator doors silently. 

His mind was running wild still. Jeremy was sure he wouldn't have been able to sleep even if he had tried, the image of Michael's dismembered arm haunting him everytime he so much as blinked. Jeremy couldn't help but think it was his fault. It was his own unawareness that got himself into trouble, prompting Michael to need to save his ass. Jeremy raised one hand to his own face, lightly touching his wounded eye. He tried to silently reason with himself that he didn't see the zombie because of his eye, it wasn't his fault. He tried to force his eye open, intent on not causing anymore tragedy with his inability to muster through a little pain. If Michael can cut his own damn arm off, Jeremy could be a man and open his eye, whether there was still metal stuck in it or not. 

He hissed softly in pain as he tried, opening his eyelids enough to be able to see a blurry sliver of light. It still hurt like a bitch, his eye burning like it was being jabbed with needles. He kept his small pained noises to a minimum so Michael wouldn't wake up, but it was proving difficult to keep quiet as he decided to try the one and done method, forcing himself to snap his eye open. It was not as much like ripping off a bandaid as he had liked, letting out a sharp squeal of pain that he just barely caught with a hand pressed against his mouth. He glanced at Michael to make sure he was still asleep, letting himself relax when Michael didn't stir. Jeremy's eye was open now though, which is what he wanted to begin with. It still hurt a lot, but it was quickly reducing to a dull burn instead of sharp, red hot pinpricks. Jeremy noted the way his eye burned every time he blinked, but couldn't be bothered to investigate why right now. He settled into his sitting position a bit more comfortably, feeling better already, now that he had two eyes to look out with. Sure, one eye was blurry and hurt to move at all, but it was better than being totally blind in one eye. 

Jeremy thought to himself that if he lost his eye, at least him and Michael would be even. They would have both lost an important part of their body to the zombie apocalypse. Jeremy wanted to laugh at the irony of it, but he couldn't even force a smile upon his lips at the moment. He was tired, in pain, and homesick. He always got emotional when he was put on guard duty. Having so much time with only his thoughts as company tended to do that. 

Jeremy shifted his legs as he felt one of them beginning to fall asleep. He tried to think about anything else to distract himself from the oncoming panic attack, hugging his knees tighter. He looked at Michael again, wincing when he laid eyes on his tied up sleeve. Jeremy wasn't tired, not even a little bit, but he would have loved to curl up next to his best friend right now, just for the company. He felt cold and nervous, burying his face between his knees. He bit his lip hard when he felt the tears start to form, trying hard to keep them back. However, it was no use, the wetness overflowing down his cheeks when he tried to shut his eyes tight. He turned his head, cheek still resting on his knees, to look at Michael once more. Jeremy had almost lost him. He had almost died.  _ Michael could have died. _ A sob shook Jeremy's frame, and he sniffled softly. He wanted to hug his friend so badly, to lay next to him and hold him tight forever. The reality that Michael could have died - and in all honesty, very well could  _ still _ die if the wound got infected - made Jeremy's anxiety bubble over, feeling his chest shake with his quick breaths. He tried to keep it down, not wanting to bother his sleeping friend. Instead, he buried his face between his knees once more, putting his hands on the back of his head and tightly grabbing a handful of hair in each. He tugged on his hair hard enough to sting, the pain helping ground himself as he attempted to steady his breathing. He just wanted this all to be over. Who knew how long they would last out here? It had hardly been a week and Michael had already lost an arm. What was next? Jeremy didn't want to imagine it. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is  
> But I do know it's not as good as my other zombie fic and that makes me :/


End file.
